Lesser of Two Evils
by finalstraw36
Summary: Raphael (season six) goes back in time and makes a pact with Azazel that results in Sam's death on the same night as Mary Winchester. Castiel finds Dean and tries to persuade him to help set things right.
1. Something's Not Right

**SUPERNATURAL AND THE CHARACTERS REPRESENTED WITHIN THIS FANFIC ARE NOT MY PROPERTY. THE SHOW WAS CREATED BY ERIC KRIPKE AND BELONGS TO A BIG CORPORATION, i.e. NOT ME. THANK YOU. ENJOY.**

There was a cold wind blowing that night, and Dean wished he'd brought his jacket. He rubbed his jaw and stared out the windshield at the dark street and the large white house up ahead. They were all large and white in this neighborhood, and Dean was honestly surprised the whole neighborhood wasn't gated. He glanced at the pizza box in the passenger seat, and pried it open one last time, as if he didn't know he'd finished the last piece an hour ago. It was empty, nothing but crumbs.

Dean looked up, past the hood of the Impala. No movement yet. Just like the last few hours. He debated getting a bag of chips from the backseat. Wait, what was that? He squinted into the darkness between two houses. A flash of dark movement, going straight for House Zero.

"Gotcha, you son of a bitch," Dean growled. He got out of the driver's seat and went round to the back of the sleek black Impala. He popped the trunk and propped it open with a sawed-off shotgun before taking a good look at the formidable array of weapons inside. He grabbed a machete quickly before shutting the trunk again. He had holy water and a pistol with silver bullets, if it got to that point. But he was pretty sure this was a lone vampire, a rogue who had been forced to go on a killing spree in a big city for lack of other options. It was a fool move to leave the nest if you were a vampire. This one must have done something extra horrible to piss off the other vamps.

"Ah, whatever," sighed Dean before jogging off across the street. This vampire had an interesting way of choosing his victims, a complicated formula. Nothing a little research on graphs couldn't handle, of course. And this was Ground Zero.

Dean ducked into the long shadows between the two houses where he had seen his target move in a blur of motion. He shifted his grip on the machete in his right hand; the vamp would no doubt smell him before he ever got to sneak up on him. In Dean's experience, he thought it wise always to prepare for the worst.

Because the worst was all he'd ever gotten in life, so why should Fate change her mind now?

Dean saw the half-open fence door and sidled into the backyard and past the A/C unit. He looked out across the treeless, moonlit, suburban lawn. And there was no one there.

Dean frowned. Where the hell was the vamp? He glanced from side to side, suspicious of any slight rustle of grass in the wind. There was no way this was going to go down smoothly.

Dean broke his pause and strode quickly across the lawn to the patio. The back door was shut, but when he tried the knob it swung open easily. This was obviously a trap.

Dean flicked on his flashlight and peered in through the doorway. Nobody immediately inside, as far as he could tell. This was nothing but bad. How was this even good?

Dean backed away for a second. He couldn't just go charging in there without someone to back him up. It was obviously a trap. He had to make a call first.

Dean flicked off his flashlight and walked away from the back door and going around once more into the alley. He kept himself highly alert as he did so, and still held his machete at his side. He fumbled for his phone, flipped it open, and speed-dialed.

**...**

**...**

**...**

"_Hello?"_

"Hey dad, it's me. I found our vamp, I'm at his house now, but something's up. I don't like it."

_"What do you mean?"_

"I mean I think I'm walking straight into a trap. He left the backdoor unlocked."

_"Where are you now?"_

"I'm right outside House Zero, I'm, like, 99 percent sure he's in there right now waiting to jump me."

_"Get back to the Impala, then."_ Dean's dad's voice sounded slightly concerned. _"Drive away. If he came back home tonight, it means he's not going to go out again. Take him in the daylight tomorrow."_

"Okay, good idea," replied Dean. "Thanks."

He took a step forward and dove to the ground, face first. The phone and machete went flying from his hands. "I've got you, little hunter," hissed the soothing voice of Dean's quarry.

Dean grunted and tried to roll over, but a strong firm grip on the back of his neck and a boot in the back prevented him from doing so. Dean realized he had to go limp. There was nothing he could do now except hope he didn't get turned. "The hell are you waiting for?" he grunted.

"Hush," whispered the vampire. Dean was able to turn his face and see a thin hand pick up the flip phone lying in the grass. "This is Mallory Sloan, _Daddy_. I'm a powerful creature, and I have your son. You have forty-eight hours to bring me everything I need, or I gut your little boy here. I'll text you details in a little while. Goodbye."

Dean heard the flip phone slap shut, and the last thing he felt was a powerful blow to the head.


	2. Fate and a Demon

**Supernatural and the characters of Supernatural are not my property, etc. Here's chapter 2.**

**P.S. I know that if Sam hadn't been alive, then Dean would never have gone back in time and made John choose the Impala, but I'm keeping it in because I like it. So there.**

Castiel stood in a gas station parking lot, keeping watch for a demon. His long trench coat flapped in the wind. The rank smell of gasoline hung in the air. Castiel searched the people on the sidewalk with his vigilant eyes. None of them were demons.

"Castiel."

He turned and saw a sharply dressed woman holding a book and a clipboard. "Fate," he muttered. "What is it that you want?" He eyed her suspiciously, like an antelope watching a nearby lion.

"Something has been set off balance. A life that should not have been taken, was taken," said Fate. "I don't know the full extent of it, but I do know that it was Raphael who did it."

"Raphael? Why?"

Fate bit her lip. "This is going to be hard to explain in person," she said. She put forward the book, thrusting it into Castiel's hands. "Read, Castiel."

Castiel opened the book to where it was marked.

_Sam Winchester, dead. Azazel & Raphael. Unintended._

"Sam…Winchester?" asked Castiel.

"Yes," replied Fate. "Now read how many lives are lost as a result."

Castiel browsed the long list. It was mostly people who had been killed by supernatural forces, like ghosts or wendigos, or shapeshifters, but then the list got stranger. It started telling who had _not_ died, and Castiel found that once he got forward into the list it got very unnatural.

"Yuriel? And…Anna?" he asked. He frowned. "She would have died if this Sam Winchester had not been killed? And why does it say Sam Winchester was killed by both Raphael _and_ Azazel? Are you trying to imply that the archangel Raphael would betray our cause?" He glared down at Fate. "Are you lying to me?"

"No," said Fate. "Let me show you what needs to happen."

Castiel drew his dagger and backed away from Fate. "Get away from me."

"Just let me show you, Castiel. I won't hurt you." She stepped forward and reached up, placing her hand on his forehead.

Castiel fell to the ground, his head splitting with the rush of images, of memories of what had really happened. Lilith, Lucifer, Michael, the apocalypse, Death and the other horsemen, Crowley, and…Raphael.

Castiel gasped as his memories fully returned to him. He staggered to his feet and said, "I need to find Raphael."

"No," said Fate. "You're not strong enough to stop him now. You need to alter things again, change it back to the way it was."

"But you…will become obsolete," said Castiel. "Why do you want this?"

"I am not a god," said Fate. "I merely make sure that what needs to happen does. I don't get to decide things for myself. I obey natural law along with my sisters." She sighed. "Look, Castiel, I wish I could leave things the way they are, but I'm not allowed to. I have to warn you so that you can change things back. Find Dean. Go back. Stop Raphael. And then wipe his memory of this whole incident afterwards, because the memory of living a lifetime without his brother will torture him. Especially since his father will be gone. Don't tell him that part, won't you, dear?"

"But…you yourself said I am not powerful enough to defeat Raphael." Castiel looked up into the sky. "How will I be able to stop him from killing Sam?"

"You'll have Dean with you," replied Fate. She smirked. "As much as I hate you guys, I have to say you make a really good team."

Castiel nodded. "I understand. Thank you, Atropos."

Fate sighed. "No problem." And then she was gone.

Castiel left his post. The demon he had been waiting for walked free.

Castiel arrived in a dark suburban neighborhood. He was standing beside the empty Impala. He leaned down and glanced inside. A dejected pizza box lay in the passenger seat. "So that's how you replaced Sam. With food," Castiel murmured. He stood at full height once more. "I should have known."

Castiel sensed that Dean was still inside the house. But not just Dean...a monster, as well.

"Hey, Castiel."

Castiel whirled round. "What, Crowley? Shouldn't you be watching a crossroads for potential victims?"

"You could say it was my day off," chuckled Crowley.

"Wait, do you…remember?" asked Castiel. It was the only possible explanation, really. The way Crowley just popped in to see him, the jovial manner in which he chatted him up.

"Ding ding, the angel gets it," confirmed Crowley. "Now listen, you're going to set things right again, aren't you?"

Castiel was about to say yes, but then he paused. A small bit of doubt gnawed at him. Was it worth it, to save Sam? He couldn't help but think of his garrison, of Anna, of all the problems he had caused. But then, he had his cause. To stop Raphael. The archangel was corrupt and had to be destroyed.

And then there was Crowley. He wouldn't need a demon to help him if he let Sam die. But Sam was Sam…

"Uh, Cas?" asked Crowley.

"Oh, yes," said Castiel, snapping out of his thought. "I'll save Sam Winchester. We still have a deal."

"Do we?" asked Crowley. "You seem awfully hesitant there, Cas. Is everything all right?"

"Yes," said Castiel. "Why wouldn't it be all right?" He stepped forward, glaring down at Crowley. "Do not question me, petty demon." A flash of lightning appeared, and Castiel let his wings show, huge dark shadows behind him. He drew his dagger. "Get thee behind me, demon."

"Quoting the Bible now, are we, Castiel?" asked Crowley, apparently unintimidated by Castiel's impressive show of force. The angel raised his hand, but then Crowley wasn't there.

"All right," said Crowley. Castiel turned and saw the demon once more. "I'm behind you," said Crowley. "It's what you wanted, isn't it? Yeah, why don't you calm down a bit, darling? Just consider your options, really. I have quite a posse that I can pursue you with. You've just got yourself, Dean Winchester, and John Winchester. Not to mention that Azazel, Alastair, all those bad boys are still alive, and as soon as you start messing with time, they're going to want to know why. In this world you don't have nearly as much power as you did. If you betray my deal, one of us will find you and kill you forever."

"Will you now?" asked Castiel. He smirked. "Leave. I've got business to take care of."

Crowley shrugged. "So be it then." The demon vanished.


	3. The Unfortunate Fate of Mallory Sloan

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not my property, etc.**

**Enjoy.**

Dean woke with a hazy memory of what had happened. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the room in front of him. He was tied down to a chair in a bare garage. The floor was darkly stained with what Dean could only assume was blood. The garage was dimly lit by a single bulb on the ceiling. Dean looked up and saw his captor through waves of pain racking his head.

"You're a fine catch, my friend," hissed Mallory Sloan.

The vampire was tall and slender, wearing a plain grey shirt and jeans. His eyes were sharp like knives, and his gaunt face seemed almost hollow except for that fact.

Dean grunted as another onslaught of pain hit his skull. He gritted his teeth and looked back up at his captor. "Go to hell, man," he said.

"Actually, I think you'll find that it's _you_ who will be heading there shortly."

"I thought you were going to ransom me or something," said Dean.

The vampire laughed. His laugh was thin, cracked, and spidery, like old fragile glass. "Oh no, my friend. I have..._much _more ambitious plans than that. You see, I sent your daddy off on a milk run. He's getting me some fresh blood packs even now. And once he comes and tries to trade for you with the blood he's brought me, I'll just take both of you and the blood. I find double-crossing my enemies to be very productive."

"Oh yeah? Is that why your nest threw you out? Because you weren't trustworthy?"

"No, no, they didn't kick me out," said Mallory Sloan, smirking. Dean couldn't imagine what was so funny. The vampire chuckled. "No, I slaughtered my fellow nesters. Those little insignificant runts, could barely hold their own. No, they were only taking up resources."

"So, you're pack leader, huh?" asked Dean.

"I was."

"Good to know," said Dean. He wondered where his knife was. If he could get to it, then he could saw off these ropes and finish this once and for all.

"I took your knife from you, if you're wondering where that is," said Mallory. "I'm not stupid, you know. But then again, how were you to know that, little hunter mine? You've seen plenty of stupid before in your hunting experience. I have no doubt about that. Other so-called 'monsters' do tend to be so unreasonably daft. But you'll find me, I hope, a tad different."

Dean chuckled and spat in the vampire's general direction. "No, we'll gank you just like we've done everything else we've come across."

"You've got heart," said the monster. "But you're the one tied up. I'm in control over your fate."

The door slammed open behind Dean. "Interesting choice of words," rumbled a deep-throated, powerful voice. Dean craned his neck and saw a man with dark hair, wearing a long trench coat and holding some sort of silver knife in his hand.

"Wh-who are you?" Mallory sounded terrified. Dean stared, wide-eyed, as the man walked forward. Mallory seemed frozen to the spot. The stranger reached out and touched the vampire's forehead, and Mallory Sloan dropped to the ground.

"I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord," said the man in the trench coat. He raised a hand, and Dean felt his ropes suddenly loosen.

"No such thing as an angel," said Dean. "What the hell are you?"

Castiel—if that was his real name—frowned. "I...just told you," he said, squinting at Dean like he was stupid or something. "An angel. Look, I don't have time to go through all this again, Dean. Where's Sam?"

Dean blinked. "Sorry, who?" How did this stranger know his name, and why was he talking about...Sam? Did he mean-?

"Your brother," sighed Castiel. "He's not here, is he?"

"No, he died," said Dean. "How do you know all this stuff about me?"

Castiel sheathed his blade inside his coat. "I can show you, but I doubt you trust me enough to let me touch you, after what I did to him." With a tilt of his head he indicated the dead body of the vampire, Mallory Sloan.

"Yeah, no joke," said Dean. He got up, shrugging off the loosened ropes. He patted his pocket, and then he realized the vampire had taken his phone. "Where's my cell phone?" he muttered. He looked around the garage and finally saw it, along with his machete and pistol, lying on a table in the corner. He crossed the room and grabbed his stuff, but when he turned around he raised his gun, pointing it at the "angel."

Castiel chuckled. "You probably think you can hurt me with that, don't you?"

"Silver bullets. It's worth a shot," Dean growled. "Now you're going to sit in that chair over there and tell me everything you know about me."

Castiel sighed. "No," he said. And then, right in front of Dean's eyes, he vanished. Not in some flash of light, he just disappeared with a slight muffled rustling noise.

A hand shot out from behind Dean and pulled the pistol from his hands, tossing it across the room. Dean felt Castiel grab him with superhuman strength and pin him against the wall.

Dean grunted, lashing out at him with his legs. Castiel didn't even bat an eyelash, but raised his other hand and gripped his forehead. "Calm down, Dean. I'm going to show you what's happened."

Dean blinked and then remembered everything. "What the hell?" he grunted. "Cas?"

The angel let him down, and Dean raised a hand to his forehead. "What happened? Where's Sam? How is this possible? And Dad..." Dean blinked again and felt his face stretch into an expression of shock and surprise. "Dad!" he exclaimed. "I've gotta find him, talk to him..." He looked up at Castiel. "Dad must be worried sick."

"Listen, Dean—" Castiel began.

Dean fumbled for his cell phone and flipped it open. He dialed his father.

...

...

...

"_Dean? Is that you?"_

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." Dean felt giddy and light-headed, as if he was tripping on something. "Where are you?"

"_Thank God, Dean. Are you okay?"_

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Dean. "I got free and killed the vamp." He looked up at Castiel, nodding and winking. The angel looked less than pleased with that description of events. "Look, Dad, why don't we meet up?"

"_All right, we'll meet at your motel," _replied John Winchester's voice.

Dean ended the call and looked up at Castiel. "Let's go," he said.

"Dean..."

"What, Cas?" snapped Dean. "Nature is out of balance? We can't go see my dad because we've got better things to do? He's my _dad,_ Cas. I need to see him again."

"It doesn't matter whether you see him or not. You're not going to remember this after we're done. This is an alternate reality. Once we set things back to the way they were, you're not going to remember a thing."

"It doesn't matter. I'm going to meet him at the motel. Then and only then we decide what to do next."

"I know exactly what we need to do next," said Castiel. "We have to go back to the night your parents died, and we have to stop Azazel from killing Sam as well as your mother. Raphael will be there as well."

"Well, that's just great. Anything you want to add?"

"Well, I was going to ask if you really _want_ to go back to the way things were."

"With Sam? In a heartbeat. I just gotta see my dad first." Dean shrugged and left, not waiting for Cas to catch up. He went back out onto the street and got into the car. He stared over at the empty passenger seat. "Damn it Sam, I wish you were here," he muttered. He turned the key in the ignition and drove back to the motel. Castiel's question plagued his mind the whole way. He was trading Sam's life for his dad's, but at the same time, it was nice. Not to have to worry about the apocalypse and Raphael and heaven and hell as much as he used to. Plus, a bunch of people had probably been saved by Sam not being around any more.

Dean put in some AC/DC and forgot about that kind of thought for a little while. _I'll figure it out later._


	4. Anna

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not mine.**

Castiel stood inside the house, contemplating what he should do next. If Fate found out that he was conspiring against her, that he wanted it to stay this way, then more than just all hell would break loose upon him. He needed a weapon to stop Fate. He needed Balthazar.

But in this universe, who knew whether or not Balthazar even had the weapon. He couldn't be sure. And if he just asked Balthazar if he had it, then the rest of heaven's legions, especially Raphael, would start to get curious.

He already had demons to deal with. He didn't need yet another problem.

Castiel stepped over the body of the vampire and back into the house. Maybe he could rely on Anna? She had contemplated rebellion in the real timeline; maybe she could be of assistance now?

"Anna. I need you." Those simple words seemed powerless coming from the mouth of his human vessel, but in his mind he was uttering the gravest of Enochian distress signals. He waited patiently, but Anna did not come. Castiel hoped that Raphael wasn't listening too closely or he would begin to suspect his knowledge of the rift in the timeline.

Castiel felt a presence manifest behind him. "Hello, Anna."

"Castiel. Why have you called me here?"

"Anna, I have a problem. With...Raphael."

"What? What do you mean, Castiel?"

"Do you ever...think...that maybe we shouldn't be following orders so obediently, that we must decide right and wrong for ourselves?"

"You mean, rebellion?"

"Yes. Rebellion, like Gabriel rebelled. I must show you something." Castiel hesitated, though. He realized that he would be showing her a reality in which she had died long ago. "Perhaps not," he muttered.

"Show me, Castiel."

Castiel wasn't so sure this was a good idea anymore. After all, she had betrayed him. She had betrayed the Winchesters. "Castiel," Anna continued, "whatever it is, I will understand. We've been through much together."

"Yes, but this—" Castiel found that he couldn't talk any more. He made up his mind, turned around, and touched her forehead. He flooded his memories through the boundaries between his mind and hers.

Anna's body trembled and shook. She did not fall; she was much stronger than Castiel had been. But it still took a toll on her body. Castiel found himself pondering how Dean Winchester had been able to take it so easily. Perhaps it was because he could not fully comprehend the gravity of such a revelation. Humans, such simple creatures, and yet so complex.

Anna pulled away from him. "What? I betrayed you?"

"Yes, and you died for it," replied Castiel. "But Anna, listen to me, I don't want that to happen."

"Fate will find a way to set things right, Castiel," said Anna. "I will die. Why did you show me that?"

"Because I need you to help me, Anna. I forgive you for any actions you may have done in that other reality. I need the weapon to kill Fate, so that I can save you."

"Of course, Castiel," said Anna. "I'll give you anything you need."

"I want to save you, I feel like I _need_ to save you—"

"It's called love, Castiel," said Anna. She reached up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight, graceful kiss.

When she pulled away, she said, "I'll get the weapon, Castiel. But if anyone discovers this..."

"Don't worry," replied Castiel. "Raphael wants Fate dead too."

Dean pulled into the motel parking lot and immediately noticed that something was up. His dad's truck was there, but the headlights were on and the driver's side door was wrenched open.

Dean pulled up and got out of the car. He took his pistol and machete with him, walking over to the truck. His father wasn't in there, but Dean saw dark stains of blood on the seat.

"Damn it." Dean went over to the door of the motel room and unlocked it. He pushed it wide open and burst into the room, gun raised. He swept every corner of the room. Nothing.

"He's not here, darling," said a menacing and all too familiar voice.

"Crowley." Dean turned around to see the king of hell standing in the doorway.

"Dean." Crowley smirked. "Nice to see you. Now listen, your dad's not here. I can show you a picture of his dead body, though. If you like."

"What?" Dean snarled. He stepped forward. "What did you do?"

"Oh, relax, it's over. I didn't make him suffer, I didn't taunt him, I just—" Crowley snapped his fingers. "Killed him."

"Why?"

"Because I want things to go back to the way they were _before_ Raphael started screwing with time. I want you to convince Castiel to change things back to the way they were. Because I just killed your family here, so your only family is back in the right timeline, where Sam is still living and breathing."

"You're not king of hell any more, are you?" asked Dean.

Crowley smirked. "No, actually. Just king of the crossroads again. And Azazel and Alastair and all those good chaps are running around doing whatever they want, whenever they want."

"You think that you can just kill my dad and get off the hook for it?" growled Dean.

"Well," Crowley replied, "he did sell his soul to Azazel in the first place."

"This was different and you know that," said Dean. "I'm not going to do anything you tell me to do."

"I know," said Crowley. "But it's good old-fashioned common sense. Your life is worse here than it was back there. You still had family in the old timeline. Now you've got nothing, Dean. I mean, just look at you."

"This wasn't for you to decide," said Dean.

"Oh, but it was, and you want to know why? Because it affected _me,_ Dean! It's destroyed my career! All you got was a lousy trade: a brother for a father. On another note, I'm doing what Fate wants! Things have to go back to the natural order, or this world will crash and burn. You just watch."

Crowley disappeared. Dean walked out and turned off the truck, slamming the door closed.


End file.
